writing doodle - as yet untitled - continuation

Three days after Big Red, and I moved in together, I heard her barking all the way in the parking lot.   She was announcing to the world I was home, she needed to pee, and dinner was late.  I’d just like to know who names a dog Mandy Manilow anyway?  I tried out several names, and for now it was Big Red, tomorrow it could be anything else.  My ego wanted to think she was excited I was home and she could devote herself to me, if only for a little while.  The reality was more like it had been over ten hours since she had the chance to relieve herself and she was getting a little desperate.

If only it hadn’t been past midnight, I wouldn’t have felt so guilty.

The key wasn’t quite in the lock when I found a sheet of paper that had been taped to the door now fluttering in the breezeway. It looked like a form letter and the apartment manager had probably taped one to each door in the small complex.  The notice, most likely of parking lot resurfacing, was something I could read and ignore later after I attached Red to her leash and I took her on a constitutional.

“Who’s my precious girl?  Who’s Daddy’s big girl?” Ew.  Ok, so I swore years ago that I would never, ever, speak in baby voices to any animal.  It was my personal standard, one I swore I would uphold my entire life.  I’d made an oath, a troth, to that effect when I was sixteen.  I broke my word in under three damn days.  As long as no one heard me, it didn’t count.  Did it? I was still good.  Hell, I was better than good.  I was amazing.  Provided I didn’t get caught.